Runnin' Man

F.Y.I: The treadmill is unplugged, and he is running back and forth on a still belt.

Ethan is a runner. He takes off outside so fast that his legs almost can't keep up with him. There he goes around the storage house, around the tree! He's so wild and free. I want to remember him just like this forever: two feet tall, bouncing curls, smiling and squinting in the sun. The world is so new and big. Every occasion is a special occasion. Having no place to go doesn't stop him from going!

 He goes and goes all day. I swear that kid is going to wear out a ring in the carpet around the couch. He even runs in place. All this running is usually accompanied by a chant that shakes in his voice with every running step. "Mommy" becomes a four syllable word: "Mo-o-my-y, mo-o-my-y, mo-o-my-y!"

The chanting then becomes unintelligible like some primal, innate song. It's an official twin-tribal ceremony. He bounces in place with his chest out for a few measures of "May-ya-mee-a-mee-ya-may-a-mee-ya!" He looks at me under heavy, serious brows, and then he's back in motion, high-steppin' it in his usual path around the living room.

"Mee-yo-my-ya-mee-yo-my-ya!"